Super Bowl is #1. Draft is #2. It’s a 3-day, prime time event. Analysis will run rampant this weekend.

Everybody has something to say about every pick in every NFL draft. Thing is, nobody, anywhere knows who made the right moves this weekend.

And nobody knows a damn thing.

Thursday night on ESPN every pick will be scrutinized by experts everywhere. Mel Kiper and his hair (what kind of a blogger would I be if I didn’t say something about his hair?) will give a team an “A” grade and Todd McShay will give them a “B.” Then Kiper will give some team an “F” and McShay will give them a “C.”

Blah blah blah.

In three years nobody will remember or care what kind of analysis is said about pick 8 or pick 14 or pick 25. We’ll say, “Damn we nailed that one” or “That guy is a huge bust.” But nobody, anywhere knows any of that this weekend.

Calling the sports talk shows this week and saying, “Gee what do you guys think of taking Whitney Mercilus at #25 instead of Jerel Worthy?” just so the host can say, “Uhhh… Yeah that Mercilus kid is a beast” is silly and pointless.

(And yes, I realize in the grand scheme of things all sports talk radio is silly and pointless but with other topics people can at least engage in interesting and relatively substantial debate).

The best analogy I can come up with is the weather.

Arguing over draft picks is like arguing over what you think the weather will be like next summer. “No way bro, it’s gonna be cooler than usual with more rain than we’re used to!” “Yeah right dude I bet we set record highs like each week!”

Can you imagine getting really pissed off or really pumped because you see a weather report for like 12 days from now? People have a general idea of the way things may pan out, but a lot can happen and a lot can change. And sometimes meteorologists are just flat-out wrong.

I can’t predict the future, you can’t predict the future and Merril Hoge can’t predict the future.

The draft is important. When building an organization in any sport, the draft is the single most important tool to success. The instant judgment and analysis, however; is just dumb, regardless of what ESPN tells you.

For starters, watch this little promo I saw during the holiday season:

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That may be the most hideous 78 seconds of my life. Just horrible, horrible stuff.

Let’s recap: We have Justin Bieber singing (or pretending to sing while computers make noises for him) a traditional Christmas song while blending fast-paced action shots of NBA players dancing around in pregame warmups, complaining to the refs, high-fiving one another, wiping sweat off of their cheeks, doing that hip-bump thing that is required of all athletes, smiling at cameras and beating their chests. If you think life can’t get any better, hold on to your freaking hat. The video then transitions into some sort of God-Awful rap remix of the Little Drummer Boy.

Reread that last sentence.

Anyway the video goes on like this and even mixes in exciting shots of referees signaling both a block and a charge call; one ref even one falls over! What’s not to love?

Obviously, this is Where Amazing Happens. Who could watch that and not think, I Love This Game.

I’m sure that is exactly what James Naismith had in mind when he nailed up those peach baskets in Kansas.